


Warmth for the Fear

by JonsaInTheNorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 07:48:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JonsaInTheNorth/pseuds/JonsaInTheNorth
Summary: Sansa takes care of Ghost while Jon is away. They both find comfort in the other.





	Warmth for the Fear

**Author's Note:**

> This is pre-arrival for Bran and Arya. Based on a post by jonsasnow on tumblr back in like 2017 or 2018. Enjoy!

Two dark figures rest by a flickering flame in a cold, icy land, shadows backed as if they themselves are on fire. Through the window from below, it would appear as if it was only the woman with the fire-red hair sat there on the ledge overlooking the vast, snowy expanse of the north. She stares out through the glass panes at the blackness of the wolfswood as the wind howls through the castle's battlements like the wolf that she lost a lifetime ago.

The ancient grey stone walls of the tower hide the great white wolf laying at her feet until he lifts his body to settle his paws in her skirts and his head in her lap. Quietly, her fingers run through the softness of his snow-white fur, twisting gently and drawing comfort from the missing spectre that he belongs to and the warmth of home and hope in his presence.

Lady Sansa Stark of Winterfell rises from her perch to settle in a chair besides the hearth and stares into the depths of her fire's orange glow, as if she is trying to divine the future like the Red Woman who rode at her side on her long campaign to reclaim this castle that is her home. Has always been her home, even if it does not feel like this so much anymore. Ghost lowers his head from her skirts and returns to gnawing on the leftover hambone Sansa brought him from the kitchens. Every once in a while the logs will crackle or Ghost's tail will beat against the rushes on the floor, tossing up dust and straw, but mostly silence permeates the chamber, science and the howl of the wind.

She shifts in her seat again and Ghost raises his head again, big eyes staring at her expectantly.

Sansa has the honor of being the only human in Winterfell, and likely in all the snow-covered North, that Ghost will let near within a yard of himself. She takes responsibility for guiding the direwolf out of the castle most evenings so he can join his brother and sister wolves on their nightly hunts, running through the wolfswood and howling at the full moon as it hangs above them. Her first act each morning, even before she breaks her fast, is to meet him at the gates and bring Ghost back within the castle walls. He will not approach the unfamiliar guards who stand watch in the morning, shivering in their grey-and-white cloaks, too scared of Ghost's massive power and snarling jaw to let him into his kennel space themselves.

But tonight when Sansa guided the direwolf to the gate, he would not leave her side as usual to go bounding into the snow-capped hills. She spoiled him with the hambone from their dinner’s leftovers, instead, and brought him besides her fire where he sat upon the rushes and stayed by her side. Outside, other wolves howl to the winds as if waiting for an alpha's guidance. Ghost’s ears flick up and he gazes towards the window, but otherwise he does not move from his place besides her. 

“Missing them, boy?” She asks, sure he can understand her, like Lady always seemed to know what she said. “I miss someone too.”

Sansa glances away from the window towards the empty cushioned chair where Jon normally sat before the fire, covered in furs and blankets to provide extra warmth and comfort. Jon would write letters to their lords and vassals to coordinate the winter's retreat to Winterfell while at his sid Sansa would review the ledgers of the supplies that arrived during the day from the storehouses of the Vale and North. Ruling the Winterfell, and the North, is unforgiving work, all late nights and early mornings, but they survived the toll it pulled, together. Without anyone she can trust fully and completely, Sansa has begun to feel the heavy, angry pull in her aching heart as if ice grew there where warm blood should beat. Yes, she has Lord Royce for advice and support but it is not the same as ruling besides the only living man who means his promises. She misses Jon, more than she ever thought she could, more than she has missed anyone before. Losing Father and Arya and Mother and her full-blooded brothers was nothing compared to losing Jon and finding him, only to lose him again. She knows it would be the same if somehow the other Starks were to return and then leave after so many weeks and moons as her only support. Winterfell offered stability, security, home, but all that was lost when Jon went south and will not return until he is safe in these walls again.

At her feet, Ghost whimpers just enough that she can hear it, high and whispering.

“You miss Jon, don’t you?” Sansa knows it makes sense - the bond between direwolf and human is great. It look a long while for her to stop looking at Ghost and feel a pang of hurt from Lady’s loss, and longer still to look at him and feel comfort instead of fear, to realize that his snarls were not like Ramsay's dogs who meant to hurt her. Rather, his snarls were directed at anyone who would think to hurt her. Her voice lowers, as if she has people to hide her thoughts from. "I miss him too."

Sansa begins to prepare herself for bed and walks off into her bedchamber, in the inner part of the castle where the pipes of hot spring water warm the entire space. A bit of ice clinks as it lands against the glass panes and Ghost barks, soft but powerful, and she hears his bone clatter from his paws onto the rushes. 

Sansa spins and stares as he plods into her chamber, unsure as to what the direwolf is doing. Her heart races - Ghost has never entered here. Slowly, he pads over to her bed and leaps up into the nest of furs and blankets. Ghost sniffs at the smell of her as Sansa edges towards him, breathing deeply. Ghost watches her with those unnerving red eyes until she settles beneath her covers. He rolls over in a startlingly playful manner, and sets his head into her lap, closer than he's ever sat to her before. 

Sansa strokes at his white fur and lays back into her pile of downy pillows. She had not tried to brush the fur, and burs and dirt cling at the deeper parts near his skin. Perhaps she can try to remove them tomorrow, if he lets her this close again. She smiles at the idea of wrapping a red ribbon around Ghost's thick neck, disguising him as a pretty present for Jon upon his return. As she watches, Ghost snuggles against her and closes his eyes as if making to fall asleep besides her.

“Thank you, Ghost.” She says as she runs her fingers through his warmth. His head presses against her belly, a comfort in the cold. He misses Jon as much or more as she, but together, wolf and woman can face the cold of this empty winter.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think and come fangirl about GOT and ASOIAF with me on [tumblr](http://www.starksinthenorth.tumblr.com/).


End file.
